


It is what it is

by howtobeinconspicuous



Series: I bet you look good on the dance floor. [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howtobeinconspicuous/pseuds/howtobeinconspicuous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sequel to “stop making the eyes at me, I’ll stop making the eyes at you”. recommended that you read that first if you haven’t.<br/>summary: zayn and liam are together and they’re happy and louis isn’t the least bit jealous of their whole ‘happy relationship’ dynamic. or something like that. involving zayn/liam fluff, lots of kisses, quite a bit of drinking, and louis and harry maybe getting a happy ending too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It is what it is

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: not mine, none of this is true. if you’re one of the people in this story or know these people personally then stop reading here. there’s lots of other entertaining shit out there on the internet to see, don’t waste your time here.
> 
> A/N: there will be an epilogue after this. self-edited, so any mistakes are my own.

It was exactly two months since Zayn saw Liam in the club for the first time. They still debated who saw who first as a matter of fact, but Zayn told Louis that he knows he’s right. But apparently he let Liam think he’s right because Liam got sad puppy eyes if he thinks he’s wrong.

Liam and Zayn are sickeningly cute together. Zayn relayed the story of what had happened from when they left the club until the next morning, when they had woken up curled together, sticky and sweaty – _too much information Zayn!_ – and Zayn had got up and made them both tea and they had a repeat of the previous night after drinking their tea. And that was meant to be it, only Liam came back to the club the next week, assuring Zayn it was nothing to do with him, only they made eyes at each other the whole night until Zayn asked Liam if he wanted to come back with him. And that kept happening, until Zayn told Liam he should maybe quit with the excuses, and Liam had looked embarrassed and Zayn had kissed him.

And since then they had been ridiculously couple-y and had insanely loud sex while Louis was in the flat. Louis thought that was probably more because Zayn wanted to rub it in Louis’ face rather than either of them being particularly good in bed. Though Zayn didn’t fail to assure Louis – on a weekly basis – that the sex was _amazing_.

Louis liked Liam though, and he liked Zayn and Liam, and he liked Niall – Liam’s Irish friend. He especially liked complaining with Niall about how irritating their two friends had suddenly become. Apparently there was a Harry that Niall and Liam were good friends with, but he’d been really busy with his band – he was in some indie rock band apparently, and Louis tried his hardest not to judge him for that because Louis was sure Harry was perfectly nice. But really, an indie rock band? And then Harry had gone away to Greece with his sister for about a month – Louis had no idea about the reasoning behind that. And somehow two months had passed and Louis still hadn’t met the illustrious Harry Styles.

But that was going to change tonight, because all five of them were going to have take-out and watch Iron Man 1 and 2.

“I really don’t want to do this.”

“Jesus Lou, you like Liam don’t you?”

“Yeah, you know I do. He’s fucking ace. But please, fucking _please_ stop shagging while I’m in.”

Zayn just shrugged as if to say, _do you think we can help it?_ Of course they bloody could, the fuckers.

“And you like Niall.”

“Yeah, Niall’s great. But Harry is clearly a pretentious hipster type and while I’m sure he’s perfectly nice because Liam and Niall wouldn’t hang out with anyone who isn’t perfectly nice, Stan wanted to go out tonight so I’d really rather be with him.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Suck it up. I’ve met Harry, he’s great. Okay? Okay.”

And that was that.

 

Liam arrived at the flat at half seven and brought pizza. Zayn frowned. “Li, that’s great and all, but you realise we’ve ordered Chinese.” Liam scoffed, and asked Zayn if he’d forgotten that Niall was coming. And apparently Harry ate a lot too. Liam was simply being prepared.

At quarter to eight, there was a knock on the door, which Zayn told Louis to get. In return, Louis told Zayn to get it. Liam saved them from arguing by getting up and answering the door himself. Niall traipsed into the kitchen where Zayn was berating Louis for making his boyfriend get the door, followed by Liam. Followed by Harry.

Who was, without a doubt, the most good looking guy that Louis had ever seen.

Louis didn’t like him.

 

As it turned out, Harry was rather hard to dislike. After a beer, most of a pizza, and quite a bit of Chinese, Harry was lovely. He had big green eyes, ridiculous curls, dimples, and the most flirty smile Louis had ever set eyes on.

Harry had been a bit quiet at first. When he’d walked into the kitchen, he’d held up a six pack of Stella, and asked where to put it. Zayn had directed him to the fridge, and Harry had complied. But he hadn’t been full in the way of conversation.

It wasn’t until Louis had elbowed him in the side and said, “Cat got your tongue?”, that Harry had started to relax. He’d looked startled, and offered Louis a beer. Louis accepted gratefully, and started to warm up to the younger boy without meaning to.

“So, Harry Styles, anything to say for yourself?”

Harry had shrugged. “I dunno. What’s to say? I’m a philosophy major. I think that says all there is to say, doesn’t it? Add that to the fact that I’m in an indie rock band, and you can safely say that I’m a pretentious douche bag.” Harry snorted. He spoke ridiculously slowly. Louis tried not to find it endearing.

Louis found himself defending Harry. “Philosophy major? Mate, I’m a fucking drama student. If I ever get close to people vaguely respecting me – which, let’s be honest, look at the way I dress.” He gestured to his skinny jeans and bright blue t-shirt. “People already find me laughable. When they find out I’m a drama student I have no chance.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything.” Louis chuckled. He wanted to punch himself. Harry _was_ a pretentious douche bag, why the fuck had he just made him feel anything but?

Two hours later saw Liam and Zayn curled on a chair together – curled on a motherfucking chair together. How fucking cliché and ridiculous. Niall was splayed against the sofa, sitting on a cushion on the floor, and Louis and Harry were on the sofa together. Their feet were touching, and Louis tried not to be aware of it.

When the credits for the second Iron Man were rolling, Louis saw that Liam, Zayn and Niall were asleep. Harry, however, was grinning cheekily at him.

“Looks like we’re basically alone.” He wiggled his eyebrows in an obscene and over-the-top manner. Louis snorted. “Come on, you twat, help me carry the empty boxes into the kitchen.”

Harry helped him gather everything into the kitchen, and while Louis set about putting the kettle on, Harry swung himself up onto the work surface.

“So Louis, tell me about yourself. Drama student from Doncaster?”

At Louis’ raised eyebrows, he explained. “Liam filled me in. That’s all he cared to mention though.”

“Right. Well, uh. That’s pretty much it? I – uh. I hate pretentious indie rock bands. That says all you need to know.” By the end of his sentence, Louis’ face was split in a massive grin.

Harry barked out a startled laugh, then looking shocked at the noise, covered his mouth. It was unfairly adorable. The kind of adorable that made Louis want to kiss every inch of bared skin he could see of Harry, and then some more. All of it, preferably.

“Right, yeah. I get you. So you hate everything I stand for.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” But Louis was  laughing.

Louis poured them both mugs of tea, then – “I forgot to ask, do you want tea?”

“Yeah, please. Dash of milk, one sugar.”

Louis obeyed, and handed Harry his tea.

“I didn’t want to like you, you know. I’m not meant to be into judging people or whatnot, but the whole ‘indie rock band’ and just. The fact that you were gone for so long, it went on for so long without us meeting, it was odd. You walked in here and I was all ready to hate you.”

“What changed your mind? Wait – have you changed your mind?”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have made you tea if I didn’t like you. And, well. You changed my mind? God that sounds cheesy. But you’re alright Styles. For a guy in a pretentious indie rock band doing a pretentious degree, etc. etc., you’re not very pretentious at all.”

And that, Louis thought, summed it all up just about right.

Harry smiled and raised his mug in thanks; he swallowed a gulp of tea. “You’re not so bad yourself. You know, for a drama student from Doncaster.”

 

Louis stumbled into the kitchen the next morning to find Harry there already, a mug of tea to the side, making what appeared to be pancakes.

“I – um. Good morning?”

Harry turned around, and blinked slowly, grinning big. “Hey, I’m making pancakes. I hope that’s alright?”

“Yeah – uh, yeah, of course. You – um. I didn’t even know we had one of them?” Louis gestured to the sieve Harry was currently using to sift the flour.

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, I had a bit of trouble finding everything that’s needed to make pancakes. But you have all the ingredients, plus some bacon, so I’ll do that too.”

Louis grinned, and flung himself at Harry. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s body, and looked up. “We’re keeping you, okay? You’re never leaving this flat. Never.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled a little, looking pleased. “Kinky.”

At which, Zayn walked into the kitchen. “What’s kinky?” He mumbled, clearly still mostly asleep. “Are you making pancakes?”

Harry laughed. “What goes on in Louis’ head is kinky, and yeah, pancakes and bacon if that’s cool.” He was answered by the rumbling of Zayn’s stomach, loud and insistent.

“Pancakes and bacon?” Niall repeated, stumbling into the kitchen.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Where’s Liam? I might as well wait until everyone is here before going over this again. Yeah, pancakes and bacon.”

Zayn raised his voice and called to where Liam had just gone into the bathroom. “Li, we’re having pancakes and bacon, and if you make Harry explain then you will have the wrath of that hipster kitten raining down upon you.”

To which everyone laughed.

 

*

 

It was surprising the way they all fit together. The five of them started spending nearly all their time together.

Harry fit in well with the dynamic of the other four. They made a good group of friends, now that Harry was actually around. He later confessed to Louis that he had been avoiding hanging out with the four boys. Apparently Liam didn’t have good luck with relationships, so Harry didn’t want to find that he got along really well with Liam’s new boyfriend and flatmate only to find that aforementioned new boyfriend was a total cunt and broke Liam’s heart. He’d figured waiting two months was a good first test. Apparently anyone that made it longer than that generally turned out alright and stuck around for quite a while.

Louis was curious as to what sort of dating history Liam had that had made Harry create these self-inflicted rules, but something in Harry’s tone quashed any questions Louis might have asked.

 

*

 

“So what’s your earliest memory?”

“Harry, I swear to god, that is the most boring question that’s been said so far.”

“Just trying to make conversation. And distract from the fact that Zayn is licking Liam’s neck.”

Liam was blushing and giggling – _giggling –_ while attempting to push Zayn away.

Louis called over to the pair of them. “Right, you two, get lost. It’s time for you to leave.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, but stood up, tugging Liam with him. Liam staggered unsteadily to his feet, knocking into the old ring stained coffee table.

Niall raised his eyebrows and looked round at Harry and Louis, as Zayn and Liam laughed to each other as they went into Liam’s bedroom.

“So what now? We’ve done drinking games, Zayn and Liam are probably going to start shagging any time now; should we go out or what?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m basically broke, the band doesn’t have a paid gig for about a month, and the bakery fired me for missing too many shifts to go to band practice. But we should go out, I want to at least just go to a park or something.”

Louis stood up. The three of them were considerably less drunk than Zayn and Liam – Liam being a lightweight, and Zayn – well he probably wasn’t all that drunk, just wanted an excuse to slobber over Liam in public.

“I want to buy strawberries. Let’s go to a shop. There’ll be something still open, it’s only eleven. C’mon.”

 

The streets were empty, skies black, streetlights dimming any stars that might have been out. Harry ran along the pavement, singing loudly, swinging around a lamppost.

“You’re mental, Hazza!” Niall called to him.

Harry laughed and spun round to face where Niall and Louis were walking behind him. His grin was impossibly wide. “Why shouldn’t I be? It’s late, it’s a Saturday, it’s a lovely night, I’m with two of the best boys in London.” He threw in a lewd wink. “It’s the best time to be insane.”

Niall looked at Louis, bemused and laughing. “Why’re we friends with him again?”

Louis smiled. “Beats me.” But he couldn’t stop thinking that Harry was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Hair wild, like a fucking halo around his head, Harry was all skinny wrists and green eyes. Louis couldn’t catch his breath.

 

Louis bought his strawberries, and they went to the park. Niall had thought to bring his guitar, so they sat around with Niall strumming chords softly. Louis tore open the box containing the strawberries, regardless of how out of season they were. Harry’s hand snuck close and darted to pick a misshapen berry. He bit into it, juice running down his chin. He made an appreciative noise.

“They’re good. They’ve probably been shipped fucking miles to get here, but they’re good.” He grinned at Louis.

The guitar playing stopped, and: “Chuck me one, will you?”. Harry complied, Louis was trying not to stare at how red Harry’s lips looked.

Louis wasn’t stupid, he knew Harry was attractive. And spent most of his time draped over Louis, which Louis definitely didn’t mind. He knew he liked Harry, he just didn’t _like_ Harry.

He really didn’t. Really.

 

*

 

The phone was ringing, and Louis’ head hurt. He didn’t know what the time was, but the light shining through the crack where his curtains met was almost offending as the insistent buzz of his phone.

Fuck Stan, he should never ever listen to that douchebag. Or do tequila shots.

Fuck.

The phone stopped ringing. _Good_. Louis rolled over and pulled the duvet over his head, only for the phone to start up again. Louis grunted, hand reaching out, searching. He found it, and saw Harry’s name flashing up on his screen. He sighed, knowing that Harry would just keep ringing until he answered.

“No.”

He heard an answering laugh through the tinny sound of his phone.

“Zayn mentioned that you went out last night. Too much to drink?”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you cry your poor hung over tears in a second, but just two seconds, okay? I got tickets to see the Arctic Monkeys. You want in?”

“I’m too hung over to deal with this. Fuck.” He grunted. “Um, yeah, that – well that would sound fucking ace if not for the pounding in my ears and the urge to vomit.”

“I’ll take that as a yes then. I’ll come over later and you can throw stuff at me and I’ll make you tea and tell you about the gig, okay?”

Louis grunted in response and hung up the phone, rolling over and going back to sleep.

 

Louis woke for the second time – head aching slightly less – to an insistent knocking on the front door. Zayn must be out, the fucker. Louis pulled himself up, head thumping and stomach roiling. He grabbed a pair of jogging bottoms from his bedroom floor, pulling them over his boxers.

He made his way to the front door, pulling it open to find Harry, looking far to healthy and wide awake.

Louis grunted at him and stumbled to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Harry instead pointed him over to the sofa, and took over the tea making.

Louis lay down on the sofa, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Rough night?”

Louis groaned. “I remember a club, and a lot of girls. And tequila. A lot of tequila.”

Harry smiled. “Lucky you.”

“Not really. The music was bad, I don’t like girls, and while the tequila seemed like a great idea last night, today it sounds like the devil’s drink.”

Louis heard a clunk of china. He moaned. “The fucking noise Haz, keep fucking quiet.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound it. “I – you don’t like girls?”

Louis grimaced. He didn’t want to deal with this. “No. Jesus Curly, what of it? I didn’t figure you’d care, what with your best mate being into guys. I didn’t think it would make any difference.”

“No, it. Sorry, it doesn’t. It doesn’t make any difference. I just didn’t know.” His voice sounded weird, strangled. Louis shrugged. He didn’t feel like talking it out with a hangover.

Harry came over with a mug over tea, which he handed Louis, who accepted it gratefully.

He hummed in thanks. Then frowned. “I think I had a dream about you making me tea last night.”

Harry smirked. “Really?”

Louis mumbled, mostly to himself. “I think you were annoying dick in my dream too. So that’s not too surprising. But – there was something.” He sat bolt upright, and put his mug on the table. “Styles, I don’t think I dreamt that.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. “Really?” He repeated.

“Harry, don’t fuck with me here. Did you call me this morning and tell me that you got tickets for us to see the Arctic Monkeys?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, maybe.”

“ _Harry._ ”

Harry let out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I did. We’re going to see the Arctic Monkeys in two weeks.”

Louis sat down, hard. “Oh my god.”

Harry chuckled. “There’s the response I was looking for this morning.”

“Oh my god, Haz, I fucking love the Arctic Monkeys, you know I love the Arctic Monkeys.”

“I do.”

“How the fuck did you get tickets? I thought they were sold out? And when they were on sale, I basically just couldn’t afford them.”

“Well apparently my band is – I don’t know. Getting known? So I have a friend of a friend of a friend who knows the singer, and he got me tickets. I’m just going to buy him a beer at the next gig the band does.”

“I really ought to see you guys play, I never have got round to that.”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Man, we’re seeing the Arctic Monkeys.”

Louis puffed out his cheeks. “Harry, I want to marry you. You are the most wonderful Harry ever to Harry. I would dance with you if I wasn’t fighting the urge to throw up right now.”

Harry laughed, and shook his head fondly. “I’ll make you breakfast. Drink your tea and cry with happiness. You can shower me with love once you’ve eaten something.”

 

*

 

The gig was amazing.

Louis had been a big fan of the Arctic Monkeys for quite a while, and had desperately been trying to get tickets to see them. To actually be there, and see them live, was incredible.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was there with just Harry. Harry loved the Arctic Monkeys nearly as much as Louis, and he threw himself into the music with abandon.

Of course, it wasn’t nearly the same, but Louis started to get a grasp of what Harry would be like on stage. He was reckless, eyes fierce and passionate, his whole body moving with the music. If only based off the way Harry reacted to music he loved, Louis could see Harry going far with his band.

 _The girls – and the boys – probably went wild for him_ , Louis thought bitterly.

He really had no idea what Harry’s stance was with sexuality. Usually Louis didn’t wonder because – well because it didn’t affect him. But. If Harry was straight, that would change things. Louis could take a deep breath and throw off this dumb little crush.

But if – if – he was maybe interested in guys. Well, in that case, Louis maybe stood a chance.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that Harry spent most of his time splayed over Louis, or whispering in his ear, or touching his back, his arm, his hand. He was touchy with all the boys, but with Louis it was different. He would happily settle down to watch a movie all curled up next to Louis, and he would pull faces until Louis flung an arm around Harry’s bony shoulders.

Louis wasn’t an idiot. He just didn’t know if Harry meant any of that.

And somewhere through _You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me_ , Louis realised that he wanted Harry to mean it all.

 

Louis woke up the next morning to the sound of someone moving about in the kitchen – which probably meant there was cooking going on, which definitely meant that Harry was still here.

After throwing on his jogging bottoms and cleaning his teeth, Louis stumbled his way into the kitchen, where sure enough, Harry was cooking bacon and eggs.

“Hey.”

Harry turned around and smiled at Louis, eyes big and hair messy. “Morning. Fry up?”

“Sounds good.”

Louis moved forward, reaching above Harry for a mug. Harry’s back was pressed against Louis’ front, and Louis realised that Harry was wearing his t-shirt.

And – okay, fuck, he was in really deep.

 

All through breakfast, Louis couldn’t stop staring at Harry. Harry was slower in the mornings, voice fumbling, eyes big and sleepy. He seemed younger – Louis was suddenly aware of the two year age gap between them – and the manic energy that carried him through the day was absent.

Louis shoved both their plates in the sink, and decided that the clearing up could wait. He sat down on the sofa next to where Harry already had the TV on. Harry immediately curled into Louis’ side, head resting on his shoulder. Louis looked down at where Harry was resting against him, and his stomach flipped. _Damn hipster kitten._

 

Zayn’s voice filled the flat. “Yo ho ho, who’s home?”

“In the living room.” Louis called out, and Zayn walked in to the rather domesticated sight of Harry and Louis on the sofa together. He let out a whistle.

“Jesus, you guys are worse than me and Liam.” Harry let out a low chuckle, but Louis could feel his face going red.

“No one is worse than you and Liam. And if anyone were, it wouldn’t be me and Harry. Because – like. It would have to be a couple that were worse than you and Liam, and me and Harry aren’t a couple. So.”

Zayn gave him a weird look. “Thanks for clearing that up, Lou.”

Louis coughed. “Yeah. Um.” He scratched the back of his neck, dislodging Harry. Harry grumbled, low in his throat. “I should do the clearing up.” He stood up, along with Harry.

“Yeah, I should get going. I have an essay to write for uni, and then I have band practice. Last one before the gig in a weeks time.”

“How come you’re not practicing again before the gig?”

Harry shrugged. “Most of the band are busy and stuff. Plus, we’re pretty confident. We’ve played the bar where it’s at before, we know the set. It’ll be fine.” He picked up his phone from where it was lying on the kitchen table, and hugged Louis tight. “I’ll see you both soon, yeah?”

Zayn seemed to be too busy darting peculiar looks at Louis, so Louis decided to answer. “Yeah, the five of us haven’t hung out in – what. A whole three days?”

Harry laughed, and raised a hand in goodbye to Zayn, and let himself out of the flat.

 

Zayn sat down on the sofa with a thump.

“Oh my god, Louis, you’re in love with Harry.”

Louis shrugged uncomfortably, and cleared his throat. “I – uh. I’m not in love with him. I just.” He trailed off awkwardly. “I just like him a little. I guess.”

Zayn looked at him in bemusement. “Mate, you’re so fucking obvious. How the fuck did I not realise this before?”

“Well – I only just figured last night that I – I dunno, like him like that I suppose.”

Zayn rubbed a hand over his face. “So when are you going to make a move?”

Louis frowned. “I’m not?”

Zayn laughed incredulously. “What? Why the fuck not?”

“Uh – well one. I don’t know if he’s even remotely into guys. Two. If he is, I don’t know if he’d be into me. Three. I don’t want to fuck up our friendship, or the friendship within the group of us.”

Zayn snorted. “How noble. Look man, I know it’s not my place – “

“It’s not.” Louis inserted.

“ – but. Well for one, I know Harry is into guys. At least – sometimes. Liam mentioned it to me ages ago. Two, it seems pretty damn clear to me that Harry seems to have some sort of feelings that aren’t just platonic for you too. And three – fuck three, okay?”

Louis rolled his eyes, and opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Liam walking into the flat. He looked between the two of them.

“Um – I. Am I interrupting something?”

Louis stood up. “No, don’t worry. I’m going to do the clearing up now anyway.” He grinned at both of them. “Have fun.”

 

Louis was on his way to his room from the kitchen when he heard Zayn and Liam talking in low voices.

“Everything alright with Lou? You looked pretty serious when I came in.”

“No, yeah. It’s all great. He’s just. He needs prodding sometimes. He’s brilliant, you know? But he underestimates himself. I don’t know. Sometimes I worry a bit I guess.”

Louis frowned in the corridor where he was standing outside the living room. Zayn sighed.

“Anyway. How are you?”

“I’m good, I’ve been looking at accommodation for my final year at uni. The lease is up on the flat this summer, so I’m looking. I – um. Do you. Do you know what you’re doing about – I don’t know. Um. Do you know what you’re doing for a flat next year? Because – if. If you wanted we could – like. Flat share or something? I mean, if you don’t want to, or you’re sharing with Louis or – or something, then that’s fine you know? I just – “

Here it sounded like Liam was being cut off with a kiss. Louis wrinkled his nose.

“You twat. Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure yet, I’ll talk to Lou. But I’d like that.”

Louis figured it was time to stop listening to what was clearly meant to be a private conversation. He pushed open the door to the kitchen and put the kettle on.

The thing was – the thing was he was really happy for Zayn. Liam was the best person Zayn had ever been with, and Louis could genuinely see them twenty years from now, house in the country, maybe some kids or something. They were long term, Louis knew that. But he – he was jealous. Not in that he wanted to be Liam or anything – god, he didn’t know how Liam had the patience to put up with Zayn. God knew Louis would never be able to do it. He just – he wanted what Zayn had. He wanted more than a quick fuck in the toilets of a club, or staying over and having awkward morning afters. Of course, he didn’t want anything as mushy as Liam and Zayn had – because that was vomit inducing – but he wanted that easy relationship, full of watching stupid films and drinking tea and just generally being happy with each other. Louis wanted that.

And, dammit, he wanted it with Harry.

 

Six days later – one day before Harry’s band’s gig in the bar – Louis was really bored. He’d been kicked out of the flat by Zayn who, apparently, was sex deprived due to the fact that Liam had been busy with studying. So Liam was going over and Zayn was hopefully going to be in a better mood later.

Louis caught a bus to the flat that Liam, Niall and Harry shared, and knocked on the door of their flat. Niall answered.

“Hey man, Liam’s at your place, huh?” Niall laughed at the stony face Louis gave in response.

“Listen Ni, can you not let Liam study for so long next time? Zayn has been a fucking nightmare to live with.”

“So has Liam, and it was his bloody decision to have a long sex-less study period.”

Louis rolled his eyes and made his way into the flat.

“So do you want to do something? Like an actual something rather than chill out here and order pizza and watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians?”

Niall chuckled. “Yeah, let’s go out. I’ve been bored shitless – Harry’s out with. Well, I don’t know. With some older guy, I think. I was going to call you but I figured you’d be over soon what with Liam at your place.”

Niall continued talking, but Louis was still frozen at _Harry’s out with some older guy_.

And – okay. Speak of the devil.

“Niall, oi! Where are you?”

“Sofa. Louis’ here.”

Harry’s face poked around the door. “Oh, hey!” He grinned at Louis, smile bright. He stepped into the room, an older guy following him.

Harry must have noticed Louis looking at the guy, because he gestured and said, “Oh, yeah. Right, this is Nick. Nick, this is Louis, and that’s Niall.” Nick nodded his head in greeting.

 _What sort of a name is “Nick” anyway?_ Louis thought to himself – totally unreasonably he was well aware. Nick was actually a great name, he’d had a friend in school called Nick. Now was not the time to be bitter.

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that the gig is tonight? Not tomorrow? I don’t know, last minute change. And you know. It’s the first time you’re seeing the band play so.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “So you’re stressing? Aw, is little Harry nervous.”

Harry scowled. “Shut up, you tosser.” The frown slipped off his face quickly however, to be replaced with a big smile. “Anyway, we’re heading back out now, so I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Niall and Louis both nodded.

Louis could hear Nick and Harry talking in low voices as they headed out.

“So – Niall. Have you seen this ‘Nick’ guy before today?”

“Yeah, I mean. I’ve seen him around. And Harry’s talked about him. He seems like a cool guy.”

Louis glowered. “I don’t know. Seems a bit odd if you ask me.”

Niall let out a startled laugh. “Jesus, Lou, what’s up? What’ve you got against Nick?”

Louis shrugged. “Nothing. I don’t know. Let’s go out, yeah?”

 

They arrived at the bar just in time to hear the band before Harry’s playing their last song of their set. The song was short and fast, and it wasn’t long before Harry was traipsing out, being followed by some other guys. Someone with very long, messy hair sat at the drum stool, shaking his hair out of his face, while the other three took their places as guitarists and bassist respectively.

Harry took his place at the mike stand, and shook his hair out. He leaned forward and spoke into the mike, “We’re the White Eskimoes”, and the opening bars of their first song started playing.

 

If Louis had thought Harry would be good on stage when they were at the Arctic Monkeys gig, then Harry was fucking incredible in reality. He was tall and pale in the bright lights, his dark hair and red lips contrasting against his fair skin beautifully. And – his voice. His voice was low and husky and as the band’s set went on, it got hoarse. Harry threw himself into the music, voice cracking under the passion he put into his singing.

And – okay, fuck. Louis really _really_ wanted him.

Niall gave him an odd look, and Louis realised he might have said that part out loud. “You what, mate?”

“I fancy the shit out of that fucker on stage, okay? Now, would you like to get wasted with me?”

Niall looked concerned, but shrugged and went up to the bar to order drinks.

He came back with a few rounds of shots, and put them down on the table.

“I don’t know if this is my place, but for what it’s worth? It seems like Harry feels the same way.”

Louis grimaced, and took a shot of vodka from the tray. And another and another and another and –

And he wasn’t sure how many, but Harry was coming off stage and coming towards him, eyes big and dimple showing.

Louis grinned up at him. “You were brilliant Hazza. Totally brilliant. Wasn’t he brilliant Niall?”

He turned to Niall to see him wincing slightly. “Yeah, Harry, you were great. Listen mate, this one has had a little bit too much to drink, so I’m going to take him back to ours, okay?”

Louis frowned, and grappled for Harry. He found his soft shirt, and pulled him close. “I think I’ll stay here with Harry.”

Niall rolled his eyes, and tugged Louis up by his arm. Louis was soft and malleable in his inebriated state, and couldn’t put up much of a fuss. He did, however, manage to call to Harry from where Niall was dragging him away. “CALL ME, BABYCAKES.”

 

Niall sighed as he let Louis and himself into the flat. “You don’t make it easy for yourself, huh.”

And with that, he deposited Louis onto the sofa and pulled a blanket over him.

 

He woke up to the sound of someone shuffling into the living room. Louis blinked open a bleary eye to see Harry, deep circles around his eyes with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Budge over.” Harry’s voice was hoarse and low, and Louis complied.

“What time is it?” Harry slumped onto the sofa next to him, and Louis curled into his warmth, pressing his face into Harry’ shoulder.

“Dunno. About five, six?”

Louis murmured a reply, and they fell silent.

“You still drunk?” Harry finally broke the silence, and Louis blinked to rouse himself from the dozing state he’d fallen in to.

“No. Not yet hung over though. Sorry if I was an arsehole last night.”

Louis felt more than heard Harry’s answering laugh. “You weren’t. Just over exuberant.”

Louis grimaced. “Sorry. You were really good last night though. The band – you’re all really good. But. But – especially you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks Lou.”

They fell silent again, and Louis was comfortable against Harry’s warm body.

“Haz?”

“Yeah?”

“Is Nick your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Would you have cared if he were?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are we on the sofa when you have a bed in the next room?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not moving.”

“We’re going to regret it.”

“Yep.”

And Harry slid down until he was lying down, and tugged Louis down next to him.

“Are we spooning?”

“Yes Lou.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Louis awoke for a second time at about eight in the morning, and Harry’s arm was flung over his waist. And despite the crook in his neck and how cramped his legs were, he couldn’t help but want to wake up every morning like that.

 

At an ungodly hour, someone flung the curtains open and Louis was blinded by the morning light. He flailed about, flinging his arm over his eyes, and whacked Harry in the face, who let out a startled noise and sat bolt upright.

“Wuzza?”

“Yes, very eloquent Harry.” Liam responded in a dry voice. “It’s just that it’s two in the afternoon and I’m not going to take pity on you just because you drank too much last night. You’re in my living room, and you’re taking up space and you’re spooning in such a couple-y manner it makes me want to throw up.”

Louis groaned. “Can we not talk about throwing up?”

Liam laughed. “I made tea. I’m going out to work now, if we want food then you can make it yourself.” He frowned. “Okay, no. Get Harry to make it for you.”

Louis mumbled from where he was still splayed on the sofa next to Harry. “You have no faith at all in my culinary abilities.”

Harry snorted. “Just as well, because if he didn’t then we wouldn’t have a kitchen. You’d have burnt it down by now.”

“That was one time!” Louis protested.

Liam coughed. “I’m leaving, okay? Niall’s gone out – he went to some girl’s place. I think he’s getting serious about someone. We’ll have to get that story out of him tonight, okay? Okay. Don’t die. Or something.”

Liam let himself out, and Harry climbed over Louis, tripping over his feet as he walked over to the kitchen.

“Okay, go shower and I’ll make you breakfast. Dealing with you with a hangover is becoming a startlingly frequent occurrence.”

Louis laughed, and quickly cut off the sound as he got to his feet, clutching at his spinning head. “Yeah, shower. I reek of vodka. Alright.”

 

He walked into the kitchen – in a pair of Harry’s ratty jogging bottoms and a white t-shirt – to the smell of bacon cooking. He breathed in deep. “Harry Styles, you are a saint. A god amongst men. An angel sent to save me from hangovers.”

Harry raised an eyebrow sardonically. “Is that right.” And he passed Louis a plate of bacons, eggs, tomato and toast.

Taking his plate over to the sofa, Harry sat down, and gestured with his head for Louis to follow.

“So last night. Well – this morning. You uh – you asked me if me and Grimmers are together.”

Louis stiffened. “Uh. Did I?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. Yes, you did.”

“Right.”

“Why?”

“Curious.”

“Sure, okay.” But Harry let the matter drop.

 

They spent the day curled on the sofa. Harry was even more absurdly affectionate than usual, his head nestled into the crook of Louis’ neck. Louis didn’t know what to do. Usually he’d act exactly the same as Harry, but he didn’t know – he didn’t know where he stood with Harry. So he was pushing Harry away slightly, gently, testing Harry to see his reaction. Harry did nothing but continue to sit half on Louis’ lap.

 

When Louis gently pushed Harry off for the fourth time in the past hour, Harry turned the TV on mute and turned to face Louis.

“Alright, what’s the deal?”

“I – I don’t know?” Louis offered.

“Jesus mate. Okay, how about this? This brilliant guy and I become really good friends. He’s fucking incredible, he has a great taste in music, his butt looks really _really_ great in the stupidly skinny jeans he wears. Turns out he’s gay, too. So it’s great. I start really liking him, and I think he maybe likes me too. Then, he gets drunk and is enthusiastic about my existence. Then, when he’s sobered up, he asks me if another guy – one he’d been glaring at – is my boyfriend. When I finally ‘oh, something could happen, one of us could make a move’, this guy starts pushing me away. In the literal sense.”

Louis looked abashed.

Harry poked his cheek. “Lou, can you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Louis bit his lip, and considered. “So, you like me, huh?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Did you not hear that speech, dipshit?”

“Just checking.”

And Louis leant forward and pressed their lips together. It wasn’t hot or fierce or passionate and there weren’t any fireworks. It was just the feeling of something slotting into place in Louis’ place, and the taste of something a lot like home.


End file.
